


Crimson Cactus

by HachimansKitsune



Category: David Bowie (Musician), Labyrinth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HachimansKitsune/pseuds/HachimansKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based loosely on the song 'Cactus' originally by the Pixies but I was listening to the Bowie version when I wrote this . "Bloody your hands on a cactus tree, smear it on your dress and send it to me". Story: Jareth and Sarah did a bad, bad thing. Dark Jareth. Dark Sarah. Potentially disturbing imagery. Rated M for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson Cactus

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own anything. This is something that popped into my warped lil brain when I was listening to David Bowie's 'Reality Live' album non-stop awhile back. I fell in love with the song 'Cactus' (if you haven't heard it, check it out on YouTube before reading this story, it will TOTALLY enhance the story, but you can understand the story just fine without the song).

So if you must blame someone, lay all blame for this lil one-shot at David Bowie's feet. And if he has a problem with that, he is more than welcome to take it out of my hide – yeah… in my dreams! *HAH!*

 **Warning:** Dark, dangerous and outright crazy Jareth. And well, Dark Sarah too. Adult themes and potentially disturbing imagery. Character death. If you want a happy 'unicorns and rainbows' ending, this is NOT the story for you.

 **IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTE:**  The sections in bold AND italics are THE PRESENT. Sections in regular font are flash-backs, and plain italics are inner dialogue.

* * *

**CRIMSON CACTUS**

_**The dress.** _

_**He wanted to blame it on the dress, but deep down he knew it wasn't the fault of the dress – it was hers. It was Sarah's fault. Everything that had happened. Everything that had gone wrong. Everything that had been lost and destroyed. It was all. Her. Fault.** _

_**Oh… how she had teased him, flashing her figure in skimpy outfits that clung to the womanly curves that had seemingly developed overnight. Bitch that she was, she had teased him mercilessly, flaunting her endless stream of lovers, knowing full well that he was watching.** _

_**He was always watching.** _

_**From the moment she entered his Labyrinth and every minute of every day for the last seven years since she had so cruelly rejected him, he had watched her. Watched as she cavorted with his traitorous subjects. Watched as she shrugged off the torn and filthy shirt and trousers that she wore through is Labyrinth. Watched as she left her room, swathed in a robe, only to creep into the empty room, his hands burying themselves in the folds of the linen shirt as it lay sprawled upon the chair, where she had carelessly tossed it – just like she had tossed him aside. As he listened to the shower running from a nearby room, the Goblin King brought the shirt to his face, inhaling deep the scent of her, mingled with the magic – his magic – that still clung to the fabric. If she ever noticed her shirt had gone missing, she never let on. He would have known, of course. He was always watching. Craving her scent, her very flesh as if it were air, yet denied the ability to draw near her by her own words –** _

_You have no power over me_.

_**Looking down, Jareth found his fingers painfully gripping the silken fabric that only a moment before had flowed easily through is hands, sliding sensually between his fingers, his leather gloves carelessly discarded on the sand at his feet. Jareth's pale eyes hooded against the harsh desert sunset as it beat down upon him. He stared down at the pale pink silk that his restless hands had twined between strong fingers.** _

_**Yes, it was all her fault.** _

Her cherry red convertible had skidded to a stop beside the 'Desert Rose' motel, hidden on a back road deep in the desert of Arizona, the peeling green paint of the worn buildings whispering of too many seasons scorched beneath unrelenting desert heat. As always, he was watching, floating on heated air currents as he circled above, the sight of the run-down motel shimmering as the heat rose from the scorching black tar that covered the road.

Sarah slunk out of the car, her shapely legs bare and lithe as she stretched, the pale pink silk dress clinging to her sweat slicked body. Cocking her head slightly, she glanced around, her red lips burning brightly in the noonday sun, a crimson sneer that seemed to enflame him. Sure steps led her around the car, until she was leaning against the passenger door. She grabbed the man in the passenger seat and kissed him hungrily, the hem of her skirt riding high upon her hips, exposing the creamy curves beneath as she ground herself wantonly against the car door. Jareth could barely contain his fury as she snaked her hand into the man's lap, a throaty chuckle rolling past her scarlet stained lips.

With a sultry laugh she leaned back, a clear bottle gripped in her hands, the remaining brown liquid sloshing as she slid along the side of the car. Draping herself over the hood of the car, her back arching off the heated surface, she gulped the bitter liquid, heedless of the way it flowed from her lips. A thin stream of the dark liquid poured from the corners of her mouth, dribbling down her chin and over the smooth column of skin on her neck, soaking her hair and dripping onto the hood of the car, where it rolled in lazy rivers along the contours of the car, to drip slowly down the side, until it dropped on the sand.

Sitting up, she flipped her hair back, her emerald eyes narrowed cruelly as she locked eyes with him, clearly recognizing his owl form as he came to rest upon a nearby fencepost. With a malevolent smirk, Sarah poured the rest of the drink down her throat, then threw the bottle at him, laughing as it shattered against a rock, splashing shards of glass coated in the acrid scent of bourbon over his feathers. Yet still he couldn't tear his eyes away, as the bourbon pooled on her chest, seeping in to stain the silk, the thin fabric soaking up the liquid, as the wet patch darkened and grew, creeping over the fabric and her skin like blood flowing from a fresh wound.

Then, she was gone, the door of the motel office clattering loudly in the otherworldly silence of the desert.

Minutes ticked by, as Jareth alternated between watching the door of the office, and glaring at the man now slouching in the front seat of the car. With each second that passed, the Goblin King dreamt up more painful and wicked ways of torturing the hapless man Sarah had hooked up with this time – just one more in a string of temporary lovers. He had seen it happen time and time again. She picked them up. Used them. Then tossed them aside, quickly moving on to the next. She devoured them and never thought about them once she was through, which was just as well, since only the Goblin King knew where the bodies were buried.

She used them for sex and to torment him. He used them for revenge, taking out his blood lust on their weak, pathetic, mortal bodies. It was so easy to crush them, tearing the life from their lungs, all the while punishing them for the fact that they got to touch her, to be with her, to feel her flesh, while he was forbidden that pleasure – the only pleasure he wanted. She was his obsession, and sex was hers.

But he knew her secret.

It wasn't just 'sex' to her – it was revenge. He watched the endless stream of often nameless strangers, the very rabble of society that were so far beneath her as the Champion, that they weren't even good enough to wipe her feet upon. He watched as she blithely spread her legs for them, offering up the part of herself that was by rights, his – worthy of royalty, and now sullied beyond all measure, purely to spite him. For that it was it was. That is what it always was. Revenge. Rubbing his nose in the fact that she won, for she was nothing if not cruel.

The door to the motel office slammed open with a jarring screech of rusty door springs, then slapped shut with a dull thud. The owl blinked balefully at the golden shimmer of metal in her hand – a room key. One of many. Many motels. Many keys. Many rooms. Many strangers. And the Goblin King's fury grew, as it always did, knowing that this lowly mortal, unworthy of her, would soon have her. Just a useless hitchhiker, one she had picked up early that morning when she stopped for fuel, would be able to feast upon her flesh, while he, a mighty Fae King could not.

Being reminded of the fuel stop made Jareth's blood boil. Sarah had filled the tank, pressing her scantily clad body against the hood in a lascivious display, her legs bared and skirt hiked up to an indecent level, as the truckers entered the little shop and café. When she finished filling the car, she told the cashier she had forgotten her purse, all the while leaning over the counter, her breasts nearly spilling from the flimsy silk that covered them. Alighting on the headrest of the driver's seat, the owl's fierce claws penetrated the leather, gripping it viciously as he screamed out his rage. He knew she had money, rolls of tightly wrapped green bills were tucked under the spare tire in the boot of the convertible. Ignoring his furious protest, he watched as Sarah boldly batted her eyelashes at the cashier. Within minutes the two disappeared into a back room.

The Goblin King didn't want to see, but his fury compelled him. Taking wing once more he soared over the small building until he heard the telltale slapping of skin on skin. Hovering outside a small window, he peered through the dingy glass, covered in a decade's worth of dirt and grime. There she was. His Champion. His obsession, her skirt carelessly shoved up her body, as she was bent over a pile of boxes while the owner….

The owl shrieked his disapproval, shaking his downy head as if attempting to force the image from his mind, unwilling to let the memory play out fully. Glancing up toward the fence post upon which the owl sat at the sound, Sarah flashed him a malicious smirk, jingling the key in a taunting gesture.

"You want me, Goblin King?" she shouted, the desert wind picking up around her as her anger surfaced. "Well…you can't have me! Not now. Not ever. You. Have. No. Power. Over. Me!"

_**Lost in the memory, Jareth clenched the silken fabric in his fingers, his anger boiling to the surface once more. With one swift moment, he rent the fabric, the sharp tearing sound seeming to echo into the desert twilight. He stared at the pink silk now shredded in his hands, a low moan escaping his parched throat as he dropped to his knees.** _

_**If only she hadn't taunted him. The torture of seeing her fuck endless men, he could bear. But she had to taunt him, to call him out on his failure to keep her, to make her his. Worse yet, to call him out as being powerless. That was a slight that he could not abide.** _

Eyes red with rage, he took flight as she continued to jingle the keys at him, her other hand lazily twining in the dirty hair of the hitchhiker, before once more conquering his lips with hers, drinking of his mouth as if it were a fount of luscious wine. Yet all the while, her eyes followed the owl, just as his eyes followed her. They followed her when she pulled the filthy stranger out of the shiny red car. They followed the two of them toward the faded pink door of the room, as the unworthy male groped and pawed at the Champion like a great dog in heat. And they followed her until the door slammed shut, locking him outside once more, a long strip of the hideous paint peeling down the door as if a strip of skin being peeled from a body, long dead in the dry desert heat.

Circling overhead, his fury grew. He wanted to tear, to claw, to rip the strange man to shreds and bathe in his blood as if flowed crimson beneath the tattered remains of his mortal body.

A sudden movement from the room caught his eyes, his anger surging at the sight. Sarah had opened the curtains wide, her nude body now on display to anyone who wanted to look, glistening in the midday sun. Within minutes she was sprawled on faded comforter that covered the bed as the hitchhiker used her body, oblivious to the danger he was in. Unable to help himself, the Goblin King landed upon the hood of the car, drawn toward the scene framed in the window, his sharp talons carving long scratches along the shiny red finish – not that he cared. No, he would rather his talons carve scratches down the flesh of the nameless man that was currently rutting with Sarah – but he would have his chance. He always had his chance.

The same scene had been played out numerous times before, but then it changed.

Her long legs were splayed wide, held open by the straggly haired man as he pounded into her, while Sarah's eyes closed, her back arching in a dance he had been witness to on more occasions than he could count. For all his anger, it was that look of utter bliss on her face that he wanted – both to tear it from her beautiful face and to be the one who put it there in the first place.

_**Falling to the sand, Jareth clawed at the dirt beneath him, the remnants of the pale pink silk drifting forgotten to the desert floor, as the sun sunk lower beyond the horizon. A howl of utter anguish tore from his lips as the memory continued to play out.** _

_**He thought he would be witness to yet another liaison, another in a long and endless line of depraved liaisons. But it wasn't.** _

There was a flash of silver and Sarah screamed.

The owl merely blinked, his red eyes silently watching. Screaming was nothing knew for Sarah. She liked it…rough, much to the Goblin King's disgust and desire. It took a moment for him to realize that this was different. Much different. It wasn't until the scent of blood filled his senses and the screaming continued that Jareth knew the truth. Blackness filled his mind as he lifted from the hood of her car, attempting to take flight only to find that he had transformed. For seven years he had been trapped in his familiar form, yet now, with the scent of her blood and sex swarming through him, coursing through his veins, at last he was free of his feathery prison. Then she screamed his name.

"Ja…Jareth," Sarah shrieked, then moaned as the man punched her viciously, her eye blooming red as the blood vessels within it burst.

"Bitch! I'll teach you to call me by someone else's name," the hitchhiker bellowed, thrusting violently inside her. "You want to play rough, slut. I'll give you rough."

The silver blade slashed forward once more, carving a line down her arm that bloomed red, the blood rolling in turbulent, swift moving rivers down her arm, to slip easily into the hollow of her armpit before dripping onto the ugly comforter, a stain that would never be noticed amongst the leavings of other liaisons that dotted its hideously ugly pattern.

Cocking his head, Jareth looked at the window. She tormented him. Teased him. Taunted him. Then, had the audacity to scream his name when she was in trouble. Glaring through the window, his eyes caught hers, one green and one red-black blur, both pleading. Pleading for him to help. And he would help – for a price.

There is always a price.

And Jareth wanted blood.

Without thinking he entered the room, a leather gloved hand roughly grabbing the man's arm as he reared back preparing to slash her body again. The man snarled, startled by the hand that now squeezed his wrist painfully, the bones grinding together. Turning to look at the man now crushing his wrist, the hitchhiker grunted, his eyes wide as he took in the black leather clad visage of the Goblin King. Seeing otherworldly eyes black with rage, the filthy stranger only managed to gasp, "Who…" before Jareth viciously twisted his arm – the sharp sound of bones breaking echoing in the small room with a crisp snap, the sound blending with the man's pained squeal in a musical interlude of agony, as Jareth's hand clenched tighter, taking great pleasure in the way the bone fragments ground together in his hand, splintering and tearing through the skin until blood ran freely over his gloves to pool on the floor.

Releasing the man's wrist, Jareth lunged, lifting him by the throat and slamming him bodily against the faded wallpaper, the hitchhiker's head hitting with such force that it left a bloody indentation in the plaster. Never taking his eyes from the terrified face of the stranger, the Goblin King twisted his hand, conjuring a shimmering black crystal. Giving the man a wicked sneer, Jareth turned the crystal upon his fingertips, relishing the squeak of fear that slipped past the filthy lips as the crystal opened up, looking like a mouth filled serrated crystalline teeth. With a calm, deep breath, the Goblin King abruptly thrust the serrated crystal into the hitchhiker's flaccid cock, drinking in the agonized shriek that sliced through the air as his thighs bloomed scarlet, his lifeblood pouring forth from the jagged wound.

"Beg," Jareth demanded, his voice icy as his piercing dark eyes dared the bleeding man to look away.

The hitchhiker merely groaned, his brown eyes wide in pain and terror.

"Beg me to kill you."

With an agonized grunt, the man whispered, "Please…."

"NO!" roared the Goblin King with an evil laugh.

Jareth stepped closer to the bleeding man, enjoying the way his boot ground into the carpet, now spongy and wet from blood. With a wet, sucking sound, the Goblin King ground his foot into the soaked carpet, his eyes shining as a malicious smirk twisted his angular face into a wicked mask of pure sadistic pleasure.

"No…I'm not ready to kill you yet," he snapped, his black eyes flashing with rage. "I want to hear you scream as I flay the skin from your very bones."

Conjuring a new crystal, Jareth peeked over his shoulder at a pained whimper from behind him. Panting weakly, Sarah was dragging her body toward the edge of the bed, trying to sit up, blood still dripping freely down her arms and chest where she had been slashed. Flicking the crystal to his fingertips, Jareth hummed a quiet tune, his eyes flickering menacingly as the crystal transformed into a knife, the blade thin and wickedly sharp. As he brought it to the hitchhiker's torso, the man began to scream.

The Goblin King worked in silence his tuneless humming melding with the waivering, agonized wail of the bleeding man as the knife slid effortlessly through his flesh, separating it from the muscle and fat beneath, before long strips fell to the carpet. When the screaming stopped, Jareth paused listening for any sign of life, his face a frozen mask as he smiled at the hint of breath, a tiny bubble of blood bursting against the hitchhiker's pale lips. Preparing to begin again he heard a moan from Sarah.

Crystalline blade still in his hand, Jareth turned to see Sarah struggling to pull her dress over her head, the blood from the cuts inflicted by the hitchhiker staining the pale silk, melding with the brown splotches left from the bourbon.

"Thinking of going somewhere, Precious?" he purred darkly, his words edged with malicious glee.

Wide green eyes shot to his, her mouth a scarlet 'O' of shock, lipstick smeared across her cheek like a weeping gash.

"While I am almost finished with your… _friend…_ " Jareth drawled, his voice dripping with venom, "You and I, still have unfinished business."

Ignoring the terrified groan from Sarah, Jareth returned his attention to the bleeding man, small blood tinged bubbles bursting against his lips as he tried to speak.

"Yes?" came the supercilious response from the Goblin King, as he feigned interest, his dark eyes shining with wicked delight.

"K-Kill….Muh….me."

"As you wish," chuckled the Goblin King, blithely gripping the man's jaw with both gloved hands and giving it a violent twist, the sound of his neck snapping ringing through the decrepit motel room.

A faint scream caught his attention as he dropped the limp body of the hitchhiker into a bloody heap on the carpet, where it landed with a damp squishing sound. Turning, Jareth raised an eyebrow at the sight that greeted him. Sarah, the pale pink silk dress twisted around her hips leaving the rounded curve of her ass bare, was trying to drag herself out the half-open door of the room.

"Tsk…tsk, Precious. I do believe I told you that we had unfinished business," laughed Jareth.

With a swift movement, he viciously gripped her by the ankles, dragging her back into the room and slamming the door. Ignoring her gasping whimper, the Goblin King flicked the lock on the door and jerked the curtains closed, enveloping the room in darkness at last. His eyesight keen even in the dark room, Jareth chuckled, hearing Sarah crawling away, pained grunts and moans heralding her attempt to flee.

"Oh Sa-rah," he trilled, the light tone of his voice belied by the evil smile that flashed in his eyes. "You can't escape me, Precious. Debts must be paid and you, my wanton little harlot, owe me. Big."

_**Wracked with sobs as the memories bombarded him, the Goblin King tore at his hair, alternately clawing at the dry desert earth and his face, long bleeding scratches weaving ragged stripes down his cheeks. His bloodshot eyes stared at the rising moon as he writhed on the ground, tears mingling with blood as they ran along the angular contours of his once face, once ethereally beautiful, now a hideous mockery. Flashes of memories burst inside his mind, tearing holes in his sanity as his time with Sarah was revisited in horrific detail.** _

Sarah had taunted him and tormented him for years. Fucked anything that moved. Then demanded his help – help she got. And she paid the price. Paid for everything. Every last taunt and torment she had tossed at him for the last seven years.

He found her cowering in the bathroom, the pink of her dress contrasting with the military fatigue green tiles of the floor. One hand found her hair, twisting in it and jerking her from the corner, before thrusting her flat on the floor, her head kinked as it rested against the side of the bathtub.

"Oh yes, Precious. Your debt is more than due. For seven years you have taunted and tormented me, flaunting your body and whorish behavior. And now, I plan to collect."

"No…" she gasped, shrinking away from him. "You have no….power….over me."

Gripping Sarah's hair with a force that made her cry out, Jareth shook her head, laughing as it made a dull thwacking sound as it hit the side of the tub.

"Guess again, girl," he growled, yanking her dress up to her neck with a vicious jerk.

Then he was on her. Filling her. The sound of her screams ringing in his ears as they echoed off the cracked and broken tiles. Still he thrust, groaning in ecstasy at the way her body gave way before him. One hand twisted into the silk dress as it hung around her neck, he arched back, his eyes drawn to the way her body sheathed his, the sight of blood running down the slickened flesh further enflaming him as he pounded into her. With each violent thrust, his hand in the dress twisted, turning it tighter as he raged at her, as if judging her for every taunt and torment she had inflicted upon him since leaving his Labyrinth. Beneath him she writhed, begging and pleading as her very air receded from her lungs, her face red with the effort of trying to both plead and breathe. Still he rammed his way into her torn and bleeding body.

"Do. I. Have. Power. Now?" he roared, punctuating each word with a fierce thrust, that elicited a pained cry from Sarah.

His face contorted with rage as she fell silent.

"Well?" he bellowed, shaking her head harder, chestnut tresses dancing against the side of the porcelain bathtub, the sharp thudding sound getting louder with each shake.

Still no answer, his wrath boiling over as he shook her further, screaming at her as he punished her for every slight she had ever paid him. Crimson blooms blossomed upon the side of the bathtub, as Sarah grunted, her face twisted in pain, blood flowing from her temple – yet still he trust savagely into her, a torrent of anger pouring from his lips as he used her body, one hand shaking her head while the other twisted viciously in the silk fabric of the dress.

"You were my Queen!" he bellowed, his face red as yelled in her face, before licking the flush of blood that flowed freely from her temple. "I offered you everything! And you debased yourself. For what? For what, Sa-rah? ANSWER ME, BITCH!"

Her body arched against him, shuddering violently, green eyes falling shut as her mouth fell open. Seeing her respond, Jareth felt his insides tighten before spilling himself inside her with an agonized roar of completion that seemed to shake the very foundations of the flimsy motel.

_**The memory faded to flashes of movement and thought, blurred and fuzzy around the edges, as his anguished cries echoed against the lonely desert nightscape.** _

...Pulling from her cool flesh with a slick, plopping sound.

...Ripping the pale pink silk from her throat, the tearing sound making him rigid once more, throbbing with the desire to fuck her again.

...Blood. Pooling beneath her head, beginning to congeal in her hair.

...Smeared blood red lips, open as if to speak.

...Green eyes. Staring, yet unseeing.

...Falling to his knees, screaming at her to get up. Demanding that she come with him. Be his queen.

...Fleeing into the desert sun. Running. Leather boots crunching desolately in the dry desert soil.

...then...nothing except glaring light and hellish heat for days, and the icy chill of desert nights as he relived Sarah's last moments repeatedly.

_**The Goblin King shrieked out his anguish to the stars as he tore as his flesh, now hideously blistered from days spent under the harsh desert sun.** _

_**As the Goblin King continued to wail to the cold, unfeeling stars, the cool night wind of the desert swirled around his body, licking fretfully at the remnants of the silk dress. Giving up the Goblin King as a lost cause, the wind tugging at the silk, pulling it along the ground before picking it up to dance upon a sudden gust of air, only to be snagged upon the needle-like spines of a cactus where it stayed – pink silk, torn and bloodied. The last reminder of the Champion of the Labyrinth.** _

_**And the Goblin King began to laugh, a deranged cackle while Sarah's voice echoed in his mind.** _

_No power over me….No power over me….No power over me…_

_**Crimson blood dripped upon the sand, as the Goblin King's laugh died down to a wracking sob. Then fell silent.** _


End file.
